Only those evils which are sure to come at a definite date have any right to disturb us; and how few there are which fulfill this description.  For evils are of two kinds; either they are possible only, at most probable; or they are inevitable.  Even in the case of evils which are sure to happen, the time at which they will happen is uncertain.  A man who is always preparing for either class of evil will not have a moment of peace left him.  So, if we are not to lose all comfort in life through the fear of evils, some of which are uncertain in themselves, and others, in the time at which they will occur, we should look upon the one kind as never likely to happen, and the other as not likely to happen very soon.

Now, the less our peace of mind is disturbed by fear, the more likely it is to be agitated by desire and expectation.  This is the true meaning of that song of Goethe’s which is such a favorite with everyone:  Ich hab’ mein’ Sach’ auf nichts gestellt.  It is only after a man has got rid of all pretension, and taken refuge in mere unembellished existence, that he is able to attain that peace of mind which is the foundation of human happiness.  Peace of mind! that is something essential to any enjoyment of the present moment; and unless its separate moments are enjoyed, there is an end of life’s happiness as a whole.  We should always collect that To-day comes only once, and never returns.  We fancy that it will come again to-morrow; but To-morrow is another day, which, in its turn, comes once only.  We are apt to forget that every day is an integral, and therefore irreplaceable portion of life, and to look upon life as though it were a collective idea or name which does not suffer if one of the individuals it covers is destroyed.

We should be more likely to appreciate and enjoy the present, if, in those good days when we are well and strong, we did not fail to reflect how, in sickness and sorrow, every past hour that was free from pain and privation seemed in our memory so infinitely to be envied—­as it were, a lost paradise, or some one who was only then seen to have acted as a friend.  But we live through our days of happiness without noticing them; it is only when evil comes upon us that we wish them back.  A thousand gay and pleasant hours are wasted in ill-humor; we let them slip by unenjoyed, and sigh for them in vain when the sky is overcast.  Those present moments that are bearable, be they never so trite and common,—­passed by in indifference, or, it may be, impatiently pushed away,—­those are the moments we should honor; never failing to remember that the ebbing tide is even how hurrying them into the past, where memory will store them transfigured and shining with an imperishable light,—­in some after-time, and above all, when our days are evil, to raise the veil and present them as the object of our fondest regret.